Terra Incognita
by Abigail Emery
Summary: AU. After dedicating her life to finding what she once thought was just a family myth, Santana finds some fairly solid information as to the whereabouts of the island possibly containing family treasure. On her journey to the beautiful yet dangerous place, an unfortunate event entails a mysterious blonde with a big secret to tag along.


**A/N:** So I was recently watching a bunch of adventure movies and I was inspired to write a Brittana adventure fic. I noticed that a lot of the things happening in them wouldn't actually happen in everyday life, so just keep in mind that some of the stuff that might pop up in this fic will be fantasy, not fiction.

To fill in the blanks of what happened before the story and in between some chapters I'm having diary entries—all from Santana's POV. I originally planned to have them start or finish _each_ chapter, but I realised that wasn't totally necessary and it may get annoying, but they're going to have a purpose later, so I hope what I've done is okay and you'll enjoy it!

I'd also like to thank my beta, followifyoulead :)

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Chapter one: Just the Beginning

_29th June, 2007_

_Dear Diary,  
While I was visiting my grandparents today they started talking about this so called legend that has been in the family for generations. Apparently some great, great, great grandparent of mine was a treasure hunter or something and discovered an island with a stash of jewelry and gold and silver, but then someone stole it all and they never got it back._

_Ever since I got home, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it... I wonder where it is now and who stole it. What if the people who stole it hid it somewhere and it's still out there?_

—

_15th November, 2019_

_Dear Diary,  
I finally finished decoding the message I found in the basement of my parents' house a few days ago. It was in a mixture of several languages; that's why I had trouble reading it. It's the coordinates for the island I've been looking for, for over ten years now. I never really thought it would actually be real up until recently. I searched and searched and never found anything related to the island or treasure, so figured it was just a tale or a myth. But now I know it's real. And I'm going to find it._

—

Sand toppled over itself as the wind blew, palm trees swaying steadily. There was a slight seafood smell, probably coming from the small fish market on the beach she had just passed. Santana looked to her left and glanced out at the ocean. If she wasn't in such a hurry, she probably would've stayed and soaked up some sun while looking out over the tropical, crystal clear aqua water. But, she was on a mission and wasn't going to take a detour that she knew would probably take up half the day.

She continued walking along the beach until she reached a small hut, the top of a helicopter visible over the top of the roof. The old, deteriorating painted sign dangling from the front of the roof was labelled 'Clyde's Rides'. Santana mentally chuckled to herself; that had to be one of the corniest company names she'd ever heard. She walked up the sandy steps onto the porch, and walked through the open door. There was a small desk directly in front of her with a folder, a small stash of stationary, and a radio which was playing a quiet, exotic tune. There was a cork board with pictures and notes pinned to it on the wall to the right, and a window overlooking the beach to the left.

There wasn't anyone manning the desk, so Santana leaned over and peered through the door in the corner that led out the back, no doubt to the helicopter. "Hello?" She called out.

"Just a sec." A voice called in return a few moments later.

Santana nodded to herself and slowly paced over to the cork board on the wall to look at the pictures. There were a few of the same guy standing in front of a helicopter pulling different poses, and a note with extremely bad, scribbly handwriting; only a few words were comprehensible. There were a couple more pictures of the beach and the tiny town they were in.

"Sorry about that." The voice made Santana straighten up and she turned around to see a man walking through the back door. He was wearing a plain, dark blue t-shirt with a pair of dark grey shorts, and he was wiping his hands off with an old rag. "I was just giving my baby a polish and oil." He paused before speaking again. "My helicopter. Sorry," he leaned forward, tossing the rag to his other hand, and extended his arm toward her. "I'm Brett Clyde."

Santana shook his hand. "Santana Lopez."

"Nice to meet you, Santana. How may I help you?"

Santana let her backpack fall off one shoulder. She unzipped the front pocket, taking out the folded piece of paper before passing it to him. "I need you to take me here."

He unfolded the paper before carefully reading what was on it. It took him a couple of moments before he answered. "That's almost two hours to sea from here. I'm not sure I can take you there. Besides, that area hasn't been surveyed yet."

"How does $500 sound?" Santana tried. She needed to get there, no matter what the cost was... Well, as long as she could actually afford it.

"Oh, that might get close to an hour out." Brett drew up.

Santana sighed. "$750."

Brett seemed to ponder for a couple of seconds before answering. "Make it a thousand and you're on."

Santana crossed her arms. "800," she argued.

"950."

"850."

"Fine."

Santana smiled, and after a few seconds teased, "I would've paid the thousand."

He squinted at her before folding and returning the piece of paper. "We'll leave in an hour. I have to follow up on some things first."

"All right, well ah, I'll just take a look around town and come back in an hour then." He nodded and Santana turned around back toward the door, putting the paper into the back pocket of her jean shorts.

When she got outside she stood on the porch for a few moments, looking around at the beach ahead of her and the handful of stores on the other side of the road to her left. She chose to look around town before settling in on the beach and going over a few more facts that she'd recently found on the stolen treasure. So, she walked over to the road, not bothering to look both ways before crossing since she hadn't even seen one car out and about since she got to that diminutive town. If it weren't for the signs or flashing lights indicating the stores were open, Santana would've thought it was uninhabited.

The most interesting shop she saw looked like a newsagents cross hardware store next to a grocery store on the end of the line of buildings, so she chose to go there first. She opened the door, a ring sounding as it hit the bell dangling above. There was a young man behind the register playing on his phone or iPod, and as far as Santana could see there was only one other person in there. She slowly walked along an unoccupied aisle at the far side of the room and looked at the paint brushes, small cans of paint, nails and bolts, screws, and other hardware supplies. Santana was surprised that they had some of the stock they did for such a small town. The closest town was probably a little over half an hour away and so she would've thought people would simply go there to get supplies.

Just as she reached the end of the aisle and was about to continue around, walking back up the opposite side, she heard a distant rumble approaching fast. She looked to the front of the store and saw the kid at the register stop what he was doing and peer through the window. Within moments, the rumbling sounded like it was right outside, and so she looked up again to see what was causing it. About a dozen people on motorbikes drove past; she could see the last few slowing down just within view from where she was standing. She tried to ignore the lasting sound of the engines until they were turned off, and she gradually turned into the other aisle, still looking around at the products she had no interest in.

A loud bang rippled through the air, followed by a couple more, startling Santana and she found herself instinctively ducking down. A couple of shrieks sounded in the room after the loud shots. Santana could've sworn it sounded like gunshots, and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest from sudden fright.

Santana quickly scrambled back to the end of the aisle and leaned back against the wood of the joining aisles. There was a quick ring of a bell as she heard the door fly open and slam shut again. Her heart began pounding even more. She looked around from where she was ducking and saw a hubcap to her side. She moved her head around to get a better view of the store through the reflection, but still couldn't see anything or anyone. Who was that that just came in, and why weren't they making any noise? Was there even anyone in there or did someone just run out?

"Stay down."

The voice made Santana hit the roof at the sudden proximity, and she brought her hands to her mouth in fright while gasping a 'Shit' through her hands.

There was a blonde crouched down next to her, probably the one who raced in the door just seconds ago. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," she whispered.

Santana dropped her hand to her chest. "No, that's fine. Just, give me a heart attack." The blonde quietly chuckled before raising herself inches up and peering over the shelf. "Who are you? What's going on?" Santana asked.

The blonde brought herself back down quickly and put her finger up to her lips. "Shh," she said. "I'm Brittany. I don't know, but I just saw those guys shoot someone."

Santana's mouth fell open momentarily and her heart rate quickened again. _What the hell is going on? Why are people getting shot, and why the hell does it have to be here and now? I was going to be on a helicopter in no more than 45 minutes going to the island I've been searching for almost my whole life, and now there's people with guns here and I'm pinned down in a tiny store._

Santana looked over to Brittany and saw her looking over the shelf again. From how she was positioned and where Santana was sitting, she could see a deep red stain around a small rip in her white tank top under her fully unbuttoned light blue shirt that was loosely tucked into her short shorts. It took Santana a couple of seconds to register what it looked like. Blood. "Oh my God, you're bleeding!" she blurted out, not realizing her voice was rising.

Brittany crouched back down and looked at Santana, eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

_How can she not know she's bleeding? _"There," Santana pointed out quickly. "You're bleeding."

"Oh," she looked down at the side of her lower abdomen and brought her hand down to touch it. She frowned, shaking her head. "It's nothing. I was running and a bullet probably just grazed me."

Nothing? How could that be nothing? She probably didn't notice because of shock, but it had been over a few minutes since the gunshots and Santana would've thought by now she'd feel and notice it. "How is that nothi—"

She was interrupted by Brittany's hand pressed up against her mouth. The bell rang, signalling that the door to the store had opened. There was another ring—the door closing. Santana could hear heavy footsteps and there was a slight metallic jingle like keys clashing together. Brittany removed her hand slowly while pressing a finger to her own lips once again. She signalled with her hand for Santana to stay put while mouthing the word 'Stay,' as if she were a dog. Nonetheless, Santana nodded compliantly.

Brittany peered over the shelf once more before quickly but quietly rushing down the far aisle, the one Santana started with, while crouching. Santana listened intently for any indication of what she was doing, but the only thing she could hear was faint metal clinking together, and she couldn't tell if it was something Brittany or the other people in the store were making.

The footsteps stopped, waited, and then changed direction. There was suddenly a whoosh and then the sound of what was unmistakably a nail gun being shot. Santana's neighbors recently had some major renovating and redecorating done on their house so she had to put up with the noise of a slow worker using the nail gun.

There were another half a dozen more shots and then a loud thud as something hard hit the ground. Santana couldn't help but turn around onto her knees and peer over the shelf. She couldn't see anything but she could hear shuffling on the other side of the room. A couple of seconds later, she saw the other person who was in the store run out, that stupid, annoying bell ringing as she opened the door.

There was a tap on Santana's shoulder and once again she hit the roof. She turned around and saw Brittany standing there. When she lowered her gaze from her face she could see she was holding a gun.

"Come on." She said and held her hand out.

Santana ignored it and got up on her own. "Why do you have a gun?" She asked quietly.

Brittany pulled on Santana's arm to start to lead her out of the store but Santana yanked it away. She was an adult; she could take care of herself, and she could most certainly get to the bloody door by herself.

"Just follow me," Brittany replied, ignoring Santana's question.

Just as they passed an intersection in the aisles, Santana caught a glimpse of a heap of something big on the floor. She quickly stopped in her tracks and took a few steps back when she saw what it was. She didn't know what he looked like, but judging from the clothes, tattoos and beard, she was pretty certain it was the biker who came in, and he was who Brittany had shot with the nail gun just now. He wasn't moving so Santana assumed he was dead or unconscious. She could see the head of a nail almost exactly centered in the middle of his neck, along with another three in his chest, one in his eye, and the other in his temple. Talk about one hell of an aim. Santana didn't even want to know how painful that would've been. She could feel her stomach churn as she stood there, eyes pinned to the trail of crimson draining from each wound onto the tiled floor. _How could Brittany have done that, and how do I know she's not going to kill me? Is she even a good guy in this situation? I don't even know what this situation is._

"Who are you?" Santana asked in dismay, standing still near the body.

Brittany turned her head around and did a double take before stopping and walking back to her. "I told you, I'm Brittany," she frowned.

Santana shook her head. "I know that. But who are you? Why did you kill him?" She gestured her hand to the man, not really needing to supply additional clarification.

Brittany looked behind her through the windows looking out to the road and ocean before walking closer to Santana. Santana took a step back for every step Brittany took forward. "Look, it's a long story, but I'm no bad guy here. I've been looking for something and those men that are still out there right now are also looking for it. Difference is, they'll kill anyone and anything that gets in their way. Now let's go." She lurched forward and grabbed Santana's hand, starting to pull her to the door again. Santana pulled her hand back once again and stood there. Brittany turned around. "Well, unless you wanna stay here."

Santana had no idea who this woman was standing in front of her, but she sort of did save everyone in the store from that guy by shooting him, assuming the statement was correct of them shooting everyone and everything getting in their way. But why did she say before that she didn't know what was going on, when she clearly did, and why should Santana trust her? Where was she going to go as soon as they got out of that hardware store? It wasn't as though it was a short walk to the next town.

Brittany shrugged and turned around. She only got a few strides before Santana called out to her. "Wait!" Brittany stopped. "I'm coming." Santana caught up to her and they rushed to the front of the store. As Brittany looked around outside, Santana happened to see a pair of feet pressed closely together under the register desk. She guessed that kid hadn't come out yet. "Hey," she said quietly, touching Brittany's arm and pointing under the desk.

"Hey, kid, you coming?" Brittany asked. Nothing. "Hello?" She dragged out.

There was a shuffle and the feet moved. "No, I—I think I'll just stay here." He said.

"Suit yourself." Brittany responded.

Santana looked out the window over Brittany's shoulder and saw a bunch of motorbikes parked, all lined up next to each other in a seemingly organized way. Brittany opened the door slowly, careful not to open the door too far in fear of touching the bell, causing it to ding loudly when hit and dropped. Santana followed her outside and they dashed across the road to the awaiting palm trees lined up parallel to the road. They stood behind them for a second while both looking around. There was nowhere to go from there and Santana wondered why exactly Brittany had led them over there. It wasn't like they were exactly covert or concealed from view.

"Where now?" Santana asked.

"I have an idea—"

Brittany was cut off by a bang. A startling gunshot echoed through their ears, and they automatically flinched, muscles contracting into a hunch. Brittany pulled on Santana's arm as another shot was fired, and this time Santana didn't pull away. Brittany pulled her onto the beach; they were now completely unprotected and unshielded, and as they ran, Santana saw a few mini explosions of sand right in front and next to them, gunshot sounds synchronized with each blow. Santana mechanically flinched every time, but did not stop running.

Before she knew it, Santana almost tripped going up stairs she didn't see in front of her. With a quick glance to each side and ahead, she soon realized it was Clyde's Rides. Brittany had let go of her arm sometime during their run across the beach to get to where they were, and she was now on the other side of the desk, fumbling through the drawers, looking for something. Santana stood there, arms crossed and slightly hunched over; as if she was cold or was doing something she shouldn't be and was anticipating the potential arrival of an unknowing being. "What are you looking for? Hurry up." She moved closer to her.

Brittany found what she was looking for and brought a set of keys to her face, quickly looking at each individual one, almost dropping them a couple of times due to fumbling fingers. "These. Quick." She rushed to the door in the corner that led outside and Santana followed.

As soon as she was outside, Santana saw the figure of someone on the floor and soon noticed that it was Brett Clyde. He was lying on his stomach with a pool of blood coming from under both sides of his torso and Santana could see two bullet wounds, one in his upper back and the other slightly below it.

Santana found herself coming to an abrupt stop and covering her mouth. She had just been talking to him literally twenty minutes ago and now he was dead. That made it two dead bodies Santana had seen in a matter of minutes, and the first time she'd seen a dead body in real life. Santana had assumed she wouldn't be freaked out by it since she'd seen plenty of action and crime movies and TV shows, but this was so different. It was scary in a way, but mostly just all kinds of weird—weird also being that she cared. Santana blamed the intensity and spontaneity of this past hour for her actions.

Santana was pulled from her thoughts when another gun was shot, sounding too close for comfort, and there was another tug on her arm. She broke her gaze with Brett's motionless body and saw Brittany right next to her, ushering her towards the awaiting helicopter, and all while aiming her gun in the direction of one of the large biker men taking cover behind a palm tree. As soon as he turned around, Brittany fired and Santana was absolutely stunned at her accuracy yet again, especially since they were moving at the same time. It made Santana wonder who she actually was. _I mean, who has that much accuracy and control over a gun—and a nail gun—to effectively shoot and kill someone standing more than 20 meters away, and again, shoot someone in the eye with a nail gun?_

Brittany opened the helicopter door for Santana while taking another couple of shots, and Santana quickly jumped in and scooted over to the passenger side. Brittany got in behind her and started up the helicopter. Santana let her mind wonder again, momentarily being relatively safe from gunfire, over why Brittany chose to take the helicopter instead of just killing everyone with her mad shooting skills. Did she even know how to fly a helicopter, and even if she did, where the hell were they going to go? "Do you even know how to fly one of these?" Santana asked.

Brittany glanced at her and smiled while putting her seatbelt and headset on. "Sure. I do it all the time on Xbox."

Santana's jaw dropped open and she stared at her. _Well, that's totally reassuring..._ "Are you kidding me?"

Brittany smiled again, flicking and pressing buttons and switches. "I'm joking. I took flying lessons a few years ago. Fully qualified. Now put your seatbelt on."

Santana jerked the seatbelt across herself, taking her a couple of tries at putting it into the lock because of her shaky butterfingers. She felt stupid because she couldn't even put her seatbelt on. When did she become so vulnerable and weak?

The noise of the propellers mixed with gunshots filled Santana's head as the helicopter slowly rose before taking off with a gradually building pace out to sea, sharp clinks hitting them as a few correctly aimed bullets hit the helicopter. Now Santana's stomach was really churning. Why were they going out to sea and not just to the neighboring town? It would only take five minutes via helicopter, and what if a bullet had hit the engine or another important part of staying in the air, and they needed to land real soon?

"Where are we going?" Santana asked after a couple of moments.

"Where do you wanna go?" Brittany sounded so calm, as if none of that had even happened. Santana's hands were still shaking; how could Brittany not be jumpy after being shot at?

Santana was going to tell her anywhere but back there, but then another thought crossed her mind. They were already out to sea and going in the general direction of the island. It would just seem a waste to dismiss an opportunity like that. Right? Santana leaned to one side and pulled the piece of paper with the coordinates from her back pocket and passed it to Brittany. "Any chance of going here?"

Brittany opened it and looked at the numbers for a few moments, seeming to take hours to reply. "I can make that happen," she started. "But that area hasn't been surveyed yet. I don't know what's out there."

"An island. That's what's out there."

"Okay. Well, it's gonna take us a while to get there, so you may as well get comfortable." Brittany placed the paper on the top of the controls, and then continued to look in front and to the sides of where they were flying.

Santana didn't bother moving to get comfy—the helicopter certainly wasn't spacious; she and Brittany's arms were almost touching in the limited space. Instead, she looked out the window to her side at the ocean below them. The color hadn't changed much since back at the beach, perhaps darkened slightly, and even the coral was visible from the height they were at. It was actually really beautiful, despite the circumstances under which she was seeing it. If only she had a camera. She had only packed what was absolutely necessary into the backpack she had with her. Only realizing now that it was still on her back, she leaned forward as much as she could, being restricted by the seatbelt, and took the backpack off before placing it on her lap.

Images from before suddenly came into Santana's head and she found herself staring at Brittany. Who was she really? She'd never met anyone who was capable of doing what she did back there; somehow remaining to keep calm while shooting people with guns and nail guns, and with such accuracy that could kill from miles away_, and then _flying a complete stranger, someone she knew nothing about, in a helicopter over unsurveyed water, when it was possible there might not even be enough fuel to get there and back. She wondered again if a bullet had punctured the fuel tank or another important part of the helicopter. There was no beeping or flashing buttons, so Santana guessed everything was working fine, but that wasn't the point.

"I can feel your eyes burning a hole through me," Brittany said. She looked at Santana. "What is it?"

_Where do I even start? _"Are you some kind of officer or agent or something? Police? CIA? NSA? Military?—" She cut herself short when Brittany chuckled. "What? Don't laugh. You shot that guy back there in the middle of his fucking eye with a nail gun. And then, that other guy behind the tree right between his eyes."

"Look, if I didn't kill that guy in the store he would've killed you as well as the other two people, okay? Same with the other guy behind the tree. And no, I'm just a regular person who works in an office and just so happens to be skilled with a gun," Brittany said, shrugging. "And can fly a helicopter," she added.

Santana turned away from her. "How do I know I can trust you? Hell, how do you know you can trust _me_?"

"Well we haven't killed one another so I guess we're both okay," Brittany said. "Speaking of okay, can you hand me that first-aid kit just behind you there?"

Santana followed her pointed finger and turned around in her seat, reaching out and grabbing the old lunchbox-styled red box. She passed it to Brittany, and she thanked her. Santana watched as Brittany tried opening the box with one hand, succeeding, and then rummaging through the box before attempting to open a band-aid wrapper but failing. "Here, hold this for a sec?" She gestured to the control stick.

"Wha—no! I don't know how to fly a helicopter."

Brittany sighed. "Well, then can you do me a favor?"

"Why should I?"

"Can you put a bandaid on this?" She ignored Santana's question, and moved her blue shirt to the side, revealing the blood stain again.

If it wasn't for her being so polite and Santana not knowing how to fly the helicopter if she suddenly died, she probably wouldn't have. But since the crimson had spread further over her tank top, Santana kind of felt obligated.

Instead of replying, Santana took the first-aid kit from Brittany, putting her backpack on the seat behind them, and replacing its position with the red box. Brittany slowly took her arm out of one sleeve, wincing slightly as she lifted her arm above shoulder height. Santana turned to face her as much as she could before moving her hands to untuck the side of her tank top and slowly peel it up. _Does she work out all the time or something? _Even though the wound was on Brittany's side, probably somewhere around where her ribs finish, Santana's eyes wandered to her stomach, noticing how toned it was, and from her angle, she could almost see six-pack lines.

Santana felt her cheeks grow instantly hot when Brittany chuckled and said, "I dance a lot." _Did I actually just say that out loud? Way to freaking embarrass yourself, Santana._

"Ah..." Santana cleared her throat and changed the subject. "That's gonna need more than a bandaid," she stated. It looked like it was just a graze, but it was still bleeding a bit. Without touching it, Santana looked around the wound and saw that there were no entry holes in her body. She looked through the first-aid kit for some kind of antiseptic solution. She found a row of saline vials and snapped one out, tearing the top off. She looked around and noticed a small, pocket size packet of tissues on the ground, and picked it up; opening it and taking out some tissues.

"This is probably gonna sting a bit," Santana warned.

"I know. Just do it."

Moments after she answered, Santana carefully but quickly, tipped the liquid contents over the wound, using the tissues to collect the runoff by resting them under the wound. Brittany squirmed slightly and inhaled a sharp breath of air, but managed to contain herself from moving too much.

After emptying the saline, Santana let the reddened liquid continue to drop down Brittany's pale skin onto the tissue and just looked at the wound. It didn't seem that deep, but it still hadn't stopped bleeding. It wasn't much, probably slowing down if anything, but it was always the small cuts and scrapes that took forever to stop bleeding, right? Or the life threatening ones that don't stop until exsanguination...

Santana gently dabbed around the wound with a new tissue and placed a bandage over the top of it before pulling her tank top back down. "Done."

Brittany smiled, "Thanks."

Santana closed the first-aid kit and gathered the rubbish before placing the box back in its place behind her and chucking the rubbish in a pile on the floor behind their seats. It wasn't like there was anywhere else to put it, and it was out of the way there.

"So, what's at those coordinates?" Brittany asked, pointing to the thin paper that'd been repetitively folded and unfolded.

"An island. I just said that before."

"Oh," she nodded. "I never thought there was anything that far out. But I guess since it hasn't been surveyed anything's possible."

"Then why did you fly out in this direction in the first place if you didn't think there was anything out here?" Santana asked.

Brittany shrugged. "Why didn't you say to go to the closest town instead?"

"Well, you're the one flying this thing."

"That's right."

"Exactly."

"Uh-huh."

Santana sighed deeply and didn't reply to what was inevitably going to be a continuous stream of one word replies. This was going to be a long ride.

* * *

**A/N:** Before you start asking, yes, there will be eventual romance, but it doesn't just happen straight away, so be patient. And please review! I'd love to know what people think. Or just follow or favourite—something to let me know it's liked.


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